


Create a Diversion

by x_los



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_los/pseuds/x_los
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ROUGH FICLET</p><p>icon!thanks sea devils!three/master ficlet for redvelvetaddict  <br/>mid episode for Sea Devils, branching off into AU with the end</p>
            </blockquote>





	Create a Diversion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redvelvetaddict](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=redvelvetaddict).



****Create a Diversion****  
  
mid episode for Sea Devils, branching off into AU with the end  
  
The Doctor jogged back to the lab table, and in seconds the Master was back with the polarizing condenser. That had been rather closely timed. He kept his face black as he thanked the Master for the component and moved to take it, but froze as the Master’s hand didn’t pull away from his. Instead the Master took a step closer, and there was a gloved hand on the Doctor’s face, a leather-covered thumb tracing his cheek bone with authority. The Doctor stepped back into the lab table only to be followed.   
  
“Let’s take a break, shall we?” The Master braced his arms on the table, on either side of the Doctor.   
  
The Doctor scoffed. “Surely your allies are expecting—”   
  
“Do you think I  _really_  care what my so-called allies expect of me?” The Master raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Well what makes you think I’m interested in that sort of diversion?” The Doctor tried. In just a few minutes time, Jo was going to be waiting for that diversion. They needed to get back on track, he had to send that sonic feedback out to incapacitate the guards—   
  
“Experience,” the Master laughed, leaning in very close. “And besides that, the way you’ve been goading me into it the entire day.”   
  
The Doctor winced slightly and thought of the human expression ‘fair cop.’   
  
“I could, er, scream for help?” He wasn’t very enthused about the prospect—it would be awfully hard to summon up shrieking distress.   
  
“Not a bad idea,” the Master mused. “Of course no one would come. The guard they’ve left has already kindly offered to shoot you—in the event that you prove non-cooperative, naturally—” the Master clarified. “And in order to convince me to tell him you’re being of use to me, you’d have to promise to be quite helpful indeed. Yes,” the Master considered it, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin, “Scream away, Doctor,” he invited with a gesture of his hand.   
  
“Must you look so damn pleased with yourself?” The Doctor huffed.   
  
“Be fair, Doctor,” His eyes were lidded, his voice dropped low, and he bent in to kiss the Doctor lightly on the lips, “I’m pleased with you, too.” The Doctor was just parting his lips, and the Master was just snaking his tongue out to slip between the crack in the Doctor’s defenses, when the Doctor recovered himself and pushed the Master back, slipping around him and into the stacks of equipment. Diversion, he had to create a  _diversion_ , Jo and the others were counting on him.   
  
“Now see here…” the Doctor began, trailing off when the Master, who’d turned to track the Doctor's movement, ran his tongue over his dry lips and followed the Doctor into the dark shelving. The Doctor was suddenly, vividly reminded of youthful encounters in the back storerooms of the vast Prydonian labs, of their horribly irresponsible misuse of the study carrel of an upper-level student they disliked, of the way the lights in the library stacks, motion sensitive, flickered out if you didn’t move along and trigger the next one, of how no one ever went back into certain sections, and you could take a break from work and slink off, you could touch each other in the dark under the careless watch of old scrolls on lapsed forms of primitive Gallifreyan pottery.   
  
He backed away, but the Master just followed him. The Doctor’s back hit the last row of shelves with a jangling, metallic thump. The Doctor swallowed.   
  
“This is the part where you tell me you can’t possibly, because the sun won’t rise tomorrow or some such nonsense if you allow yourself a quarter of an hour’s lapse,” the Master mocked, pressing against the Doctor, gloved hands finding the Doctor’s wrists, bone and skin under those elaborate cuffs, and drawing them slowly up over the Doctor’s head.   
  
“I—” The Doctor tried, starring at him with wide eyes.   
  
“Well?” The Master smirked, and their noses brushed, they stood so close.   
  
The Doctor wasn’t really sure who moved, but they were kissing, just barely, lips moving across each other’s, tentative, and then they were delicately brushing tongues, and then they were drawing each other further and further on until their movement was feverish. The Doctor didn’t move his hands from above his head where the Master had pinned them, where he was alternately squeezing the wrists lightly and running leather-clad fingers over the Doctor’s fluttering pulse.   
  
“Floor,” the Doctor suggested, and the Master’s eyes flared, and he swung the Doctor around by the wrists. They knelt down in the aisle between two long shelves, their legs tangling, facing each other. The Master started to remove his gloves when the Doctor leaned forward to grab the Master's hands and guide them back to him. “No, leave it,” he protested. The Master opened his mouth to make some taunting comment, so the Doctor had to suck two of the fingers into his mouth, just to pre-empt him, didn’t he?   
  
The Master abandoned whatever he’d been going to say to draw the Doctor’s hand down, and the Doctor took the cue and freed him, stroking.   
  
“Good,” the Master praised, and he slid his fingers out of the Doctor’s mouth and kissed him, enjoying the Doctor choking a moan into his mouth, the sure rhythm of the Doctor’s hands faltering into hard, compulsive jerks when leather-clad fingers returned the courtesy.   
  
“Master,” the Doctor got out, and the Master’s hand clenched involuntarily, which had the Doctor moaning it again, shuddering, his hands shaking around the Master’s length.   
  
They might have wanted to get a little farther than this, but it was clear that it had been too long since they’d been with each other to expect anything less desperate than a messy reunion on the supply room floor. Ah well, the Master thought as he broke off from kissing him to nip the Doctor’s neck, which left the Doctor free to hiss encouragement into his ear and flick out his tongue to lick the shell of it, there would be plenty of time for that later.   
  
The Doctor came and obligingly stayed sitting up long enough to finish the Master off before falling backwards in an inelegant sprawl across the concrete, his hand on the Master’s back tugging him down to join him.   
  
“That’s well over a few minutes,” the Master commented from his position on top of the Doctor’s chest.   
  
The Doctor stiffened. “What?”   
  
“Well, your ‘distraction’s’ certainly failed by now. Miss Grant is probably back in her cell. And your entire conversation with her got me to thinking about the dipode adjustment you wanted to make—I thought you were simply being unorthodox, but it would have spoiled my entire device, wouldn’t it?” The Master patted the Doctor’s velvet jacket lightly, sitting up and sliding off him. He rearranged himself in his clothing. “You really should remember that other Time Lords have better hearing than the evolutionary detritus you encounter here in exile.” the Master stood with a chuckle, brushing off his jacket.   
  
The Doctor bit his lip and cursed his luck.   
  
“Oh, and incidentally,” the Master turned back to look at him, expression much colder than it had been, “The next time you think it might be clever to use how much I want you—say, by attempting to distract me with a caress, so that I’ll rush off in a haze of lust or fondness or what have you to go get you whatever you’ve asked for, enabling you to plot against me with your little assistant—you’d do well to remember that it’s beneath you, and that  _I’m_  not the only one with that weakness.” The Master smiled darkly.   
  
“Now come along, would you?” The Master straightened his cuffs and headed out towards the lab table. “We’ve an awful lot of work still to accomplish. By the end of the day I expect us to be free of this planet, and perhaps  _then_  we’ll finally see an end to the ludicrous misplaced attention you lavish on its population.”


End file.
